


Head Over Heels - Part Two

by withoutaplease



Series: Head Over Heels [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 23:48:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20455583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withoutaplease/pseuds/withoutaplease
Summary: Reader gets everything she bargained for and then some when she looks for more in her relationship with Billy.Warnings: more fluff, more smut, don't say I didn't warn you about the angst.





	Head Over Heels - Part Two

“Y/N, I didn’t realize you were home,” your mother called from the kitchen, stopping you and Billy in your tracks on the basement stairs. _Shit._ She hurried over before you could get away. “And I don’t think I’ve met your friend before.” She smiled expectantly down at Billy. "Are you going to introduce me?" 

You grimaced. “Mom," you said, with exaggerated formality. "This is Billy Hargrove. He’s a friend from work.”

Billy smiled politely and extended a hand. “Your daughter’s a great lifeguard, you should be very proud.”

She seemed pleased, at least. "It's nice to meet you, Billy. Are you a lifeguard, too?”

“Billy’s the head lifeguard,” you supplied, to hurry the conversation along.

“I take safety very seriously.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Is that your car parked outside?”

“My pride and joy,” he said.

“I assume your concern for safety extends to driving around with my daughter?”

“Mom,” you said, shooting daggers. “You know I always wear my seatbelt.”

She caught them. “Of course. Well, I’ll let you two enjoy your movie before the popcorn gets cold!”

“Thanks, Mom!” you called as you started back down the stairs.

“Nice to meet you!” Billy added. You hurried the rest of the way down the stairs, and braced yourself for the onslaught. You got as far as the light switch at the landing before he started.

"What did I say when you invited me here?”

You bit back a laugh. "That you didn't want to have to make small talk with my parents?"

“And what did you tell me?”

You put the steaming bag of microwave popcorn onto the coffee table, and fed _Children of the Corn_ into the VCR. “That you wouldn't have to.” 

He sat down in the middle of the sofa in a huff. “That I wouldn’t have to!” 

You snuggled in next to him and picked up the clicker. "If it’s any consolation, I think she likes you,” you said, laughter spilling over. 

“Obviously,” he said, slinging his arm around your shoulders. “Moms love me.” He sighed and leaned back. “So, _Children of the Corn_, huh?”

“Stephen King. Let’s do it,” you said, and pressed Play on the clicker.

You watched about twenty minutes in silence before he leaned over to whisper to you. “You like this kind of movie?”

You shrugged. “I don’t mind it. I thought maybe you’d like it.”

“I don’t really go to the movies for the movie, you know?”

That tracked. The whole reason you were here was because, after weeks of almost-nightly “drives” that somehow always turned into “parks,” you were desperate for a change of scenery. You couldn’t fault the boy for his determination, but you were interested in a little more than just testing your willpower every night. You laughed.

"Well, you should try it.. Now be quiet, I'm watching."

"I can be quiet," he said with a grin. He leaned in and flicked his tongue against your ear.

"Billy!" you complained.

"Shhh," he whispered, right into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Watch the movie."

You tried, but his mouth on your neck was a serious distraction. You started to squirm, and he reached for the button on your jeans, and you let him. You moaned softly as he snaked his hand down into your panties. "Shh," he breathed again. 

The screen swam in front of you as he worked his thumb and fingers, and it seemed to disappear altogether when you started grinding down against them. Soon enough, you were panting and shuddering and half-stifled whimpering as you came. He pulled his hand free.

"That's how I like to watch movies," he said, smiling smugly. He stood, somewhat awkwardly, the front of his jeans leaving no doubt about how he was feeling. "I'll be right back," he said. "I need a smoke." He moved quietly up the stairs and out the back door, leaving you to get yourself rearranged.

You tried to turn your attention back on the movie, but it was hopeless. By the time Billy returned to the sofa, smoke still clinging to his shirt, you had turned off the VCR and were clicking listlessly through the channels. "No more _Children of the Corn_?" he asked, in mock disappointment.

"Nope. Missed too much."

"Guess we'll have to find something else to do," he replied, and he leaned in to kiss you. You returned it at first, but when he started pawing at the edge of your shirt, you pulled back. 

“Billy, wait,” you started. 

He sat back. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, just, I was thinking, maybe we could talk?”

He stared. "You want to talk,” he repeated. He glanced, split-second, down at where his erection was straining in his jeans. "Right now."

"Yeah," you agreed, with a small shrug.

He cleared his throat, loudly. "Sure, yeah, we can talk," he said. He shifted in his seat. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know," you said lamely. "How about . . . how was your day?"

"My day?” he said. He took a deep breath. “Well, first I went to work, which you might remember because you were there. Then I went and rented a weird movie because this really hot chick wanted to, which I’m pretty sure you were there for, too. Then I got her off, and I hope you remember that part, and for some ungodly reason that made her want to stop fooling around and have the world’s most boring conversation instead."

You reached behind you for a cushion, and chucked it at his head. He batted it out of the air, laughing. "All right," you conceded. "That was a stupid question. I just mean, all we ever do is this. I don't know anything about you that I didn't know two weeks ago."

"Absolutely not true," he said. "You know I like it when you do that thing with your tongue on my . . ." You cut him off with another flying cushion. He laughed again.

"I want you," he said, more seriously. "I like this.”

"I like this, too," you said.

"Damn right you do," he interrupted. 

You ignored that. "I just want to get to know you better before we . . ." You hesitated.

“Before we what? Are we talking about bases here?”

"Before we have sex!" you spat, exasperated.

His eyebrows shot up, then he broke into a broad grin. "So sex _is_ on the table, then."

"Billy!" you shouted, all out of couch cushions.

"All right," he said. "Take it easy." He considered. "How about I take you out this weekend? Somewhere besides the backseat of my car?"

"And we'll actually talk?"

"As much as you want."

You smiled. "I would like that very much."

"Good," he said. "I’m glad that's settled.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Since we’re talking, I want to say that I feel like only one of us got to enjoy the full movie experience tonight," he said, eyes shining. "Any chance you want to put it back on and show me what I missed?" 

You sighed dramatically. "If I must," you said. He wasted no time in unbuttoning his jeans. You reached for the clicker and turned the movie back on.

He pulled his jeans down over his hips. "Are you gonna do the tongue thing?”

"Shh," you whispered, scooting closer. "Watch the movie."

*****

You lifted your sweatshirt off over your head and shoved it into the top of your locker, yawning. “Late night?” Ashley asked, retrieving her sandals from the locker next to yours. 

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I rented _Children of the Corn_ and then I couldn’t sleep.”

“All by yourself?”

“Uh-huh,” you lied, fussing in the mirror to avoid eye contact.

_“Really?”_

“Yes, Ashley, really.”

“Then what’s that?” she said, poking her index finger right into the big purple hickey you found, and evidently had failed to cover up, this morning. 

_Shit._ “Curling iron burn?” you offered lamely.

“You _are_ screwing Billy!” she said, triumphantly.

“Shhh!” you whisper-yelled. “I am not screwing Billy.”

“And you didn’t even tell me. I'm hurt. I thought we really had something.”

“I’m not screwing him!”

“When did it happen? Where? Is he good? Is he _big_? He’s big, isn’t he?”

“Oh my God! We are _not_ having sex!”

She slammed her locker door. “Ahh, so you admit that there’s a _we_,” she said, grinning.

You sighed. “If I tell you, you have to promise to keep your mouth shut about it.”

“I knew it!” she said, smiling gleefully. “Tell me everything.”

“It started a few weeks ago. He . . .” the door creaked, and Heather came into the locker room. “Later,” you whispered. Ashley nodded conspiratorially. You snapped your lock closed, and headed out onto the deck. 

It wasn’t that it was a secret, exactly, you just didn’t want to throw yourself upon the mercy of the gossip hounds. Besides, how could you talk about it when you didn’t even know what it was? You and Billy hadn't discussed your relationship status (or much of anything at all), so better just to keep things professional at work. Aside from the skinny dipping, at least.

Billy was just coming in the gate when you stepped outside. You took a quick look around, confirming no witnesses, and started towards him. “You understand I have to work in a swimsuit?” you said. You pointed at the mark where your neck met your shoulder. “Everybody can see that!” 

He barely looked up, and when he did, the look on his face made your smile and your stomach drop. He walked right by you and sulked into the men's locker room. You froze there, puzzled. Ashley came over a few moments later.

“Everything okay?” she asked gently, seeing the dismay on your face.

“I honestly don’t know,” you replied. You shook your head and got to work, uneasy.

Billy didn’t say anything for the rest of the morning, to you or anyone else, except to tear a strip off a kid for horseplay. You caught up with him on a smoke break, but he just muttered, “Don’t worry about it,” and walked away when you asked him what was going on. 

Ashley told you she’d seen him like that a few times before, and he always snapped out of it, but it didn’t make you feel any better. After an entire shift of cold shoulders, you couldn't stand it any longer, and you cornered him in the parking lot, waiting against the hood of his car.

He fished his keys out of his pocket and sighed heavily. “Get out of the way, please,” he said, with deliberate patience.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong," you replied, crossing your arms.

“It doesn’t concern you.”

“Of course it concerns me!”

“Y/N,” he said, patience slipping, “get out of the way.”

You planted your feet. “Is this your idea of actually talking?” you demanded.

He shook his head, opened the door, and climbed in. Then he lit up a smoke and stared through the windshield, waiting, with a look that chilled you. You moved. He started the car and backed away.

“Seriously?” you shouted, even though you knew he couldn't hear you. "What the fuck, Billy?!" He peeled off down the street without looking back. 

You felt angry tears welling up, and practically ran to the bathroom to hide them. While you were blotting at your eyes, you noticed a new piece of graffiti, in big block letters on the back of the stall door: _Y/N blew Billy in the kiddie pool!_

“That’s great,” you sniffled, to nobody.

You headed home.

You were lying in bed that evening with a melting bowl of mint chocolate chip in your lap, rereading the same paragraph of _Tormented Rhapsody_ over and over, when the phone on your nightstand rang. You stared warily at it for three rings, then huffed and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"You want to talk about me?" Billy said, without preamble. "Fine. My father is such a Grade A asshole that my mom left when I was 9, and couldn't be bothered to take me with her. I have a step mom who ignores me, a sister I barely know who hates my fucking guts, and the only reason I have any friends at all is 'cause they're scared of me. Are you happy? Is that what you wanted to know?"

You sputtered, speechless. 

". . . Y/N?" he asked, the edge in his voice softened, after a few moments of silence. "You still there?"

"I'm still here." A longer silence.

He cleared his throat. "So there's a kegger up at Tommy's place on Friday. You wanna come with?"

"All right," you said.

"All right," he agreed.

*****

You heard two honks of the horn, and put down the hairspray. You sighed, nervous. You hadn’t seen Billy in two days, not since he left you crying in the parking lot. Not only that, but it had been almost two years since you’d been to a big party, and Billy’s performance that night was the stuff of legend in Hawkins. You asked yourself, not for the first time this summer, just what the hell you were doing.

He honked the horn again, impatiently. “Can you believe this guy?” you muttered to your reflection, shaking your head and shrugging on your jacket. You fluffed your hair one last time, then hurried down the stairs.

Worried as you’d been only moments before, you had to smile when you got into the Camaro and Billy whistled appreciatively. His hair, you noticed, was bigger than yours, and he smelled like half a bottle of aftershave. He kissed you hello; a first.

“Looking good,” he said, “but I kinda miss the librarian outfit.”

“I’m not gonna live that down, am I?” you joked, fastening your seatbelt.

“Not a chance,” he replied, putting the car in drive and turning up the tape deck. Metallica. After a short ride on the highway, he parked at the end of a long line of cars leading up to the house, where you could see the big crowd spilling over onto the lawn. Your stomach lurched as you got out. It was a lot of people.

“You ever been to a party before?” he asked, bemused.

You made a face. “Of course I’ve been to a party before.”

“All right,” he said, shrugging. “You’re the one who said you never had any fun.”

“I didn’t,” you agreed. “I don’t think parties are all that fun.”

“Then why'd you come with me?” he said, coming around the car to stand with you.

You looked up at him with a shy smile. “Because you asked me.” He kissed you again.

“It’ll be fun. Guaranteed.” He slung an arm around your shoulders, and steered you up the long drive, past what looked like the entire class of ‘85. You saw more than a few heads turn to follow you. _So much for avoiding the gossip hounds._

Inside was even louder and more crowded than out. You’d arrived fashionably late, and the general state of sobriety was falling rapidly around you. You heard glass shattering nearby, and wondered why anyone would want to host a party. Billy looked around and grinned. He was in his element. “I’m gonna get us a drink,” he said, practically shouting into your ear to be heard. “Try not to look like a deer in headlights.” He let go of your shoulders and disappeared into the house. You chose left at random, and waded into the crowd.

“Y/N!!” you heard, from the other side of the living room. You turned your head to see Ashley coming towards you, looking thrilled and like she was maybe a few drinks into the evening. You grinned and accepted her overly affectionate embrace. “Since when do you come to these things?”

“Since I started dating Billy, I guess,” you replied. Ashley screamed. You winced.

“I didn’t know you guys were _dating_,” she said, practically ecstatic. Her expression changed when she remembered. “So everything’s okay after the other day?” she asked, concerned.

“I think so,” you said with an uncertain shrug.

“Good,” she said, “because I want details and I want them n . . . hi, Billy!” You looked behind you to see him approaching, holding two full cups in the air for safety. He handed one over, and stood beside you.

“Ashley,” he said, “looking lovely as usual.”

She frowned. “You’ve never complimented me in your life.”

“Well, you’re welcome,” he said irritably. You took a tiny sip of beer to keep from laughing. Billy tossed back half of his in one go. “Aren’t you opening tomorrow?”

She shrugged, and finished what was left in her own cup. “Like you never slept sitting up in the chair.” She shook her empty cup. “I need a refill,” she said, and started moving past you. “See you on the next lap.” Then she was gone.

You resumed your walk through the crowd with Billy’s arm around you, stopping every few feet for somebody to say hi to him and look you over curiously. He stopped for a refill when you hit the kitchen, while you spotted the back door and made a beeline. “Need some air,” you explained, pointing and waving, while Billy was pouring another beer. Just before the storm door clicked shut behind you, you heard some guy in the kitchen yelling for shots. You took another tiny sip of beer, and a deep breath of the night.

There were plenty of people back here, too, but after the closeness of the house, the yard was downright peaceful. You scooped a nearby patio chair, sat back, and watched it all go on around you. You were just beginning to relax when another familiar voice called your name. You didn’t want to turn this time, but the damage was already done. Josh Walker was leaving his circle of dudes and heading straight for you.

“Y/N,” he said, chuckling, “you are the last person I expected to see here. How have you been?”

“Since you dumped me?” you snapped. “Never better.”

“No need to be bitter,” he said with a smarmy grin.

“Who’s bitter?” you said. ‘I’m serious. I should thank you.”

He brushed it off. “Well, you look good. Hey, what are you sitting all by yourself for? Why don’t you come join us over here?”

You glanced over at his friends, drinking and laughing, and were instantly reminded of a group of vultures.

“I think I’m good,” you said, scanning the yard for some escape. Josh put his hand on the arm of your chair and leaned over you.

“What if you joined me upstairs instead?” he said. The sour beer smell rolled off him in waves.

You were about ready to slap him, but you never got the chance. Billy got there first, and shoved him by the shoulder out of your face. “Back off, limpdick,” he said, standing protectively over you.

Josh caught his balance and laughed. “I heard the rumours, but I never thought it was true. Y/N is way too much of a prude for Billy Hargrove. Or was I wrong about you, sweetheart?”

Billy shoved him again, and he stumbled several steps back. “Watch your mouth when you talk to my girlfriend.”

“You mean my sloppy seconds?” Josh taunted. “You’re welcome to ’em.” 

That’s when Billy clocked him.

You were up on your feet in seconds, drink forgotten, as Josh landed flat on his back on the grass. He groaned and brought his hand up to his jaw. You hoped it wasn’t broken. Meanwhile, everyone had turned to stare, including the circle of vultures. You looked at Billy in dismay. “Anybody else want a piece?” he yelled, and you rushed up to him.

“Let’s go,” you said quickly, grabbing him, while he ignored you and puffed at Josh’s vultures. “Billy!” you shouted, and this time, he saw you. “I want to go.” He looked down at you for a long moment, nostrils flaring, whiskey shots wafting off his breath.

“Fine,” he said, glaring once more in Josh’s direction before turning and lighting up a smoke. He put his arm around you. “Let’s go.”

The two of you stumbled silently back down the driveway and the long walk down the street to the car, Billy seemingly unaware he was leaning on you. You grabbed his wrist when he went for the driver’s side. “Billy, let me drive,” you said, holding his hand. 

He laughed, “Like hell,” he said, pulling his hand free. You grabbed him again.

“I’ve had half a beer,” you insisted. “How many shots did you do in the kitchen?”

“Four,” he admitted, annoyed.

“So are you gonna give me the keys, or do I have to take them?” He laughed again.

“I’d like to see you try,” he said. You didn’t let go. He rolled his eyes, reached into his pocket, and handed you the keys. “That’s my baby,” he warned as he dropped them into your palm.

“I know,” you said, unlocking the passenger side for him. You got in, adjusted the seat, turned the stereo off, and started the car. It handled nothing like your father’s Oldsmobile, but you figured you could deal with it better than Billy could. You started off down the road, in silence except for the hum of the engine.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Billy said petulantly, as the party vanished into the distance and the darkness of the highway swallowed the car. “That guy’s a creep.”

“You might have broken his jaw,” you said, gritting your teeth to keep from yelling. “He could call the cops.”

“He’s not gonna call the fucking cops,” Billy sneered. “You really need to take that stick out of your ass.”

You fumed, and took a sudden quick turn down a sideroad. You drove until the highway was out of sight behind you, and shut off the engine. “What was the point, Billy?” you demanded.

“What?” he said.

“Picking a fight like that. What was the point?”

“I didn’t like the way he was talking to you,” he started, but you plowed right over him.

“So you hit him? You couldn’t use your words? Or better yet, let me use mine?”

“You think I’m gonna stand there while some piss-ant disrespects me like that?” he said.

“Yeah, actually, I do, because you’re an adult!” You knew you should stop, but the floodgates were open. “God, Billy! High school is over. Nobody gives a shit if you’re _King Billy_ anymore. Everyone’s moving on. Why aren’t you?”

You expected him to yell back, but he didn’t. He quietly pulled out his cigarettes, taking a moment to light one up before he next spoke. “It’s not that easy,” he said, after a long drag.

“What do you mean? Why not?”

He turned to look at you. “Because, high school isn’t over for me. I failed chemistry this year. I didn’t graduate.”

Once again, you found yourself speechless.

“It’s not because I’m stupid, if that’s what you’re thinking.” You shook your head. “Mrs. Beasley liked to tell me I was a worthless thug who would never get anywhere, until I told her she was a cunt and stopped going to her class. She fucking failed me. I have to go back.” He looked down at the dashboard, and took another drag.

“Billy,” you said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. I doesn’t fix anything.”

“I just meant . . .”

“I mean it. I don’t want you feeling sorry for me. Not you.” He finally looked up at you, and you were surprised by the genuine feeling you saw in his eyes.

“Of course not,” you said, resisting the urge to pick up his hand. He cleared his throat, squared himself up, and flicked the rest of his smoke out the window, and the flash of feeling was gone again. You sat awhile in a silence that Billy broke first.

“Something else the matter?” he asked, warily.

“Am I really your girlfriend?” you said, the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

He looked almost abashed. “Yeah, if you want to be.”

“Yeah,” you repeated, smile widening. “I want to be.” He leaned over and kissed you, hard, fueled by whiskey and vulnerability. This time, when he tried to take your shirt off, you didn’t stop him. 

“Do you have protection?” you murmured, as he trailed his tongue down between your breasts. 

“Of course,” he said, barely looking up. He reached behind you and unclasped your bra. You didn’t stop him then, either.

He sucked a nipple into his mouth. He grazed it with his teeth, and you whimpered. “Let’s go to the back seat,” you said, arching your back towards him. He took his time in tearing himself away. 

“Stay there,” he said. “I’m coming to get you.” He got out and walked around the front of the car, shedding clothes as he went. He opened your door, shirtless, and pulled you to your feet. The night air was cool, but pressed bare-chested up against him, you felt nothing but heat. He kissed you, and undid your pants, and opened the backseat. You laid back on it, and lifted your hips to help him wrestle the pants off. He shoved down his jeans, and fumbled briefly with the condom. 

“I’m gonna fuck your lights out,” he growled. And then he did.

*****

It was hours later by the time Billy dropped you off at home and you tiptoed through the front door. You’d laid in each other’s arms out there in the back of the Camaro, just kissing and talking about nothing, until everyone was cold and sober and tired. He promised to pick you up for work tomorrow, and kissed you goodnight.

You stopped in the kitchen for a glass of cold orange juice, smiling to yourself. You drank it all, wiped the back of your mouth, and left the glass by the sink. You walked carefully up the stairs and heard two sets of soft snores coming from your parents room. You relaxed, and stopped at the bathroom to start a warm shower before you headed to your bedroom. You turned on the light, grinned at your reflection, and peeled off your clothes. You tossed them in the hamper, and threw on your bathrobe. You were just on your way to the shower when you noticed a big white envelope sitting on your desk that wasn’t there when you left that evening.

You picked it up. The stamp on the front read, _Office of Admissions_.

August 30, 2019


End file.
